Day 1
Long Lake TH – 9:20 AM
Full of jittery optimism, we set foot 🦶 on Long Lake trailhead with 🎒 ⛺️ gear on our hips and 🐕 🐕 pups at our side. We started later than we’d have liked, but we were confident we’d make good time.
Lake Isabelle – 10:30 AM
We had what we thought was a great margin of time as we had passed Lake Isabelle and were on our way to Pawnee Pass. We paused for lunch and a quick 💤 nap before tackling what we knew would be demandingly steep steps ahead.
Pawnee Pass CD – 2:00 PM
After 3 grueling windy hours, we were finally trekking the continental divide. Atop the divide, we were met with legendarily fierce gusts that would knock us over. We paused behind a 2’ makeshift rock shelter to lower the beating from the winds while we prepped our psyche for what was to come next.
Each further laboring step required increasing concentration and control to maneuver correctly. A gust could come from anywhere and floor us onto the rocks. My anxiety started to race “if any of us sustained an injury, could we go back? But going back could prove to be a fatally foolish mistake stranding us in mid-retrace during the night?” We had 2 choices, continue forward into the fearful unknown, holding on to the hope that a peaceful lake would be at the end of the journey, or turn back and suffer the shame and defeat of having not persevered. Seeing the desperation in my wife’s face, I grew ambivalent. I did not know how much longer or worse the conditions would grow, and doubt crept in as to whether or not our picturesque lake would appear at all. Safety and feasibility were dwindling rapidly with each passing minute.
I regretted the trip, felt guilty for my desire to try something new and exotic, push our limits as an adventurous couple. I was in over my head here, we were on top of a ⛰mountain alone with the 🐕 🐕 late afternoon with no signal or contact with 80+mph winds 💨 foretelling our near future traverse across the divide.
We chose hope and moved on.
I was afraid, I was entirely out of control and unable to ensure the safety of my family in the face of extraordinary winds. We carried forward, one step at a time, taking a seat when needed to gather our strength for the next step.
Hanging on to the hope of a grandiose sheltered magical lake right over the summit, we made it over the top of the pass to find we were atop Mordor…
The destination we had envisioned was a minuscule mirage miles below, and at sight, our spirits were instantaneously drowned by the deafening dynamite terror of the engulfing menacing rock formations and cliffs whose winds screamed and howled at us, taunting us to try to pass amidst their looming presence. With no trees, the rocky path had been blown to rubble by the gut busting winds. We’d have to carefully crawl the vertical descent and hope we did not trigger an upslope landslide that would take us with it.
I was exasperated, the desperation washed the hope from my wife’s face once again with a permanence that led me to seek out a cliff cave for shelter from the threateningly incessant winds.
From our recluse, we calmed, regrouped, and refocused our minds on the task at hand of descent. We had passed the point of no return, and despite being discouraged by the remaining path, we mustered our final will to push through before darkness would surely amplify our nightmares and swallow us completely.
Mordor Descent (Pawnee Pass) – 4:00 PM
We cursed and cried as the rocks beneath our feet began to shift and slide with each belabored step, crumbling our confidence as quickly as Morodor and its winds had robbed us of our hope for a peaceful traverse.
I didn’t know if we’d make it, but we began to crawl against the rock faces, slowing the slides and regaining some bit of control as we switchbacked our way down the rubble of Mordor Pass. We found a child’s sweater, some shoes, and bear spray. We controlled our imagination of what could have befell those who had attempted to pass before us.
About 200 meters below the cliff hideout, we were alleviated of the hellbent winds, freeing up our attention to following a clearer semblance of a path of switchbacks into green slopes beckoning us with inviting streams and blooming wildflowers. The most beautiful part of the journey had followed the most treacherous…
Pawnee Lake – 5:30 PM
Drained and grumpy, we came across a father-daughter party from Oklahoma City who had descended Mordor’s cliffs a few hours before us (Pawnee Pass) and who had lost the bear spray we had picked up. They were happy to find the spray, and we were happy to learn that they had experienced a similarly terrible surprise as us in crossing the continental divide too late in the day. We consulted 🗺 maps and determined our options now that we were beyond the divide. The two backpackers had planned a college send-off trip via Buchanan loop, but were understandably shaken from Mordor. We suggested that the path of least resistance was to hug the river to Monarch Lake (8 miles) to stay in the valley and minimize misery of another pass.
We set up camp at the far-side of Pawnee Lake, with a magnificent view of Mordor and the moon. I still felt it was not worth the trouble we’d had – NEVER BE ABOVE TREELINE AFTER 12:00 PM.
Day 2
Pawnee Lake – 10:30 AM
We slept poorly. Aside from my mind racing that night to craft a plan B “what does the path to Monarch Lake look like? How are we going to get back home if there’s still no signal there?”, our bodies were shifting weight as trade-offs for pain between lower back, shoulders, hips, and knees. Needless to say we were not well-rested that morning, but relieved to see that Mordor was still behind us.
I found a bar of signal on a rock ledge of the lake, and tried to call dad to notify someone on-grid of our change of plan. Call failed. Luckily, I had packed a solar block that would give me a few more attempts at contact later.
Crater Lake – 12:30 PM
After having encountered a healthy young moose couple that reminded us of ourselves, we felt like foreigners without a passport. Luckily, we had the pups on leashes as moose see all dogs as threatening wolves 🐺 and will charge. We carried on slowly and peacefully to Crater Lake crossing.
The views were magnificent, and we soaked it all in, despite our aching bodies with increasingly fatigued feet and shoulders.
Cascade Falls – 2:30 PM
We began to cross fellow hikers, and felt less alone in the wilderness as we shared tidbits of our trek with curious hikers. The faces of bewilderment we received when we told the inquisitive that we were from the other side of the continental divide, were amusing and priceless.
My wife felt the signal from a rock and tried to call my dad who answered as rangers crossed our paths. We were able to communicate a solid plan to my dad with the rangers’ local area knowledge as our guide. We estimated another 4 hours for the remaining 4 miles to Monarch Lake.
We had hope again, a renewed energy to keep going towards a plausibly defined destination. We crossed many waterfalls and rivers along this stretch.
Buchanan Pass – 4:30 PM
Every step grew agonizingly 😣 painful. I had to focus on each step, each breath, and shut out all the pain and nausea from the nested blisters, cuts, aches, joints, lashes, and bruising from the 60-lb pack that had plagued my shoulders from 12 miles passed.
I almost collapsed a few times, and had to seek shelter in my mind from the physical pain of each minute extending. Stopping was a strong temptation that I knew would preclude me from getting back on, so we kept moving. Monarch Lake was amazing, but my feet were so raw that the lake appeared interminably long.
Monarch Lake TH – 6:30 PM
As the sun began its setting, we arrived at the Monarch Lake trailhead, a picnic table welcomed our presence as we collapsed from fatigue. My mind began to question “What if my dad gets lost? Or in a car crash?” and he showed up soon after those thoughts arrived.
Mindset Uplift 